


Finding heroes

by Ashild



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Ms. Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Ultimateverse), Young Avengers
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Gen, I suppose this could also be viewed as skye trying to adopt some new kids for coulson, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4493679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashild/pseuds/Ashild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye is trying to find a new team. This is not easy. Because apparently, the average age to get superpowers has dropped to include teenagers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ms. Marvel

**Author's Note:**

> Skye will probably get a team in season 3. This is not that team.  
> You don't have to read comics to understand this story. Also, origin stories are tweaked, because some characters have not appeared in the MCU (Yet!).

Skye knew her superheroes. That was basically her thing.

Sure, she was a great hacker, but that was a skill. She had trained through several years and was very proud of what she could do, but her specialty was superheroes, and how they presented themselves. It was a way of coping with a life full of the system failing her, to cling to individuals who were strong enough to actually help others and get things done.

When Tony Stark uttered the words “I am Iron Man,” that was what truly started her quest to be that person, that individual, who could change the world for the better. She didn’t have Tony Stark’s money, or media presence or materials, but she had skills. And in this day and age, you didn’t need any of the former, but if you had the latter, all that was actually necessary was an internet connection.

Of course, now she had powers. And Phil Coulson wanted to provide the means.

Which meant they came back to the fact that Skye knew her superheroes.

“Absolutely not,” she said.

“It’s the most logical starting point…”

“The people on the Index have already been contacted and assessed by SHIELD. The ones who are powerful enough to join this kind of task force has either been disappeared, run away, or are on the very, very public Avengers. Remember our deal?”

“Yes, but what you’re suggesting is taking people who have been in the news several times, and I don’t see how that is any better.”

“Have you not noticed the amount of powered people crawling out of the woodwork in the last couple of months? There doesn’t seem to be any stop to them. If a couple of people stop superheroing after only being in the wind for a few weeks, people aren’t going to notice, because someone else will step into the limelight.”

There was a tapping of a pen. Coulson liked the physical stuff, even though they were standing in front of a 3D projecter. He swiped away the files from the Index and turned to Skye. “So, where do you want to start?”

She smiled, cracked her fingers, and started doing what she did best.

Finding heroes.

 

The first one was pretty straight forward. A woman was running around down in Jersey dressed up in red, blue and yellow, and being pretty obvious about her activities.

(And why was it always New York? It was great for an effective mission, she barely had to travel to find most of her candidates, but why did the flashy ones always pick New York? Okay, stupid question.)

Stopping random robberies or assaults, saving drunk people from drowning, the whole thing screamed inexperienced and unorganized. Seriously, Skye had looked at her appearances both geographically and time-wise and had locked down a quite tight radius of where this person frequently spent her time and/or lived.

So. Back-alley, lure unsavory guys in, scream until she was sore in her throat for help, and Ms. Marvel appeared.

It took a couple of alleys, a couple of days, a couple of unconscious guys, and a very concerned young man trying to convince her to call the police, after she convinced him that she managed to knock out three guys with only a small handbag, before Ms. Marvel appeared.

The woman basically ran between Skye and the other guys, raised her suddenly very large fists and said “You don’t want to do this.” And the guys decided that, no, they really didn’t.

The woman, no, the _young girl_ turned around with her concerned eyes very visible through the mask. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, thank you so much. You’re Ms. Marvel, aren’t you? I like the costume. Very striking.”

“You do?” Her entire face lit up, and really? How old was this kid? Fifteen? Not older than sixteen, for sure. “I made it myself.”

“Well it looks good. Hey, kid can I ask you  a question?”

She looked a bit unsure. “I… um,” she glanced out of the alley, in the direction of what Skye was pretty sure was the local high school.

“I’m not going to hold up your time for long, but I’m an agent of SHIELD. Not the the evil nazi kind,” she added when she saw Ms. Marvel’s distressed face. “I was originally planning to recruit you, but you look kind of young, so it might just be best if I asked you how you got your powers.”

“You… you were going to recruit me? Oh my god, it’s like my fic about how Clint Barton became Hawkeye, only it’s real, and it’s me , and I’m not too young, what are you talking about, I am an adult…”

“If you’re even in senior year, I’ll eat my socks. Wait.” Fic about Clint Barton becoming Hawkeye. “Are you mrsthor99?”

The _sixteen_ year old superhero looked mortified and excited. Teenage girls could hold a lot of emotions at the same time. “How did you know that?! And, ah, I was twelve when I made that profile, okay?”

Skye kind of wanted to cuddle the girl into herself, because it was her, ten years ago (well seven years ago, she had other worries ten years ago). “Kid, I was moderator at a couple of forums until two years ago, under ToniStark.” And she still browsed them these days. Just for intel. And some good fics. The girl in front of her regularly updated with cute fluff, and sometimes, when the world had gone to shit, and your father didn’t remember you, and your mother was dead because she tried to suck the life force out of you, it was nice reading about the avengers arguing over a toaster.

“Really?” Was she bouncing? “And you work for SHIELD?”

“Really. So, how did you get your powers?” Please don’t say evil scientist. Or science in general, because this girl seemed so emotionally well adjusted and happy and _normal_ , despite the costume, that Skye wanted to punch anyone thinking of laying a hand on her.

“Ah,” she said, and looked down at her feet. “iateabadfish,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“I ate a bad fish. Or, well, everyone ate the same fish and got sick, but I kind of didn’t, because I had this weird dream instead of puking and woke up with superpowers.”

“Fish. Huh.”

“Do you belive me?”

“Sure. Weirder things have happened.” Skye reached into her pocket, found some pen and paper and scribbled down some numbers. “Here. If you ever get into trouble where the police are not going to help, call here.”

Ms Marvel took the piece of paper reverently. “Is this yours?”

“Among others. Take care Ms. Marvel. Loving the name, by the way. Where did you come up with it?”

The girl was already backing away, which was understandable, lunch break had probably ended ten  minutes ago. “Ah, there’s this air force captain, Carol Danvers, who’s broken all these records, no matter what gender, both in a plane, and rising in ranks, and she’s got this nickname, Captain Marvel, and she’s just,” she shrugged. “Yeah. I had to spell the Ms. part out to a journalist who shouted for a name, but I like it.”

Skye nodded. “Keep it up then. Who knows, maybe someone will be writing fanfiction about you and your adventures in not too long.”

The smile stayed with her for the rest of the day, as she planned how to approach her next target. New York’s new menace, Spider-Man.


	2. Spider-Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-graphic death of innocent bystanders. Also, discussions of death. This chapter is a bit darker, because a lot of Miles canon is just depressing. I'm not reading secret wars, so I'm hoping he comes out at the other side with a better life.

Spider-Man was not as easy to find as Ms. Marvel. He appeared and disappeared a lot quicker for one thing, probably because he was able to move faster with that web stuff. This also meant he popped up all over the city, so pinning down her search was a lot harder.

(She said _he_ because the costume was very tight and bulged certain places, and didn’t bulge in others. But really, anyone could be under that mask.)

So instead she had to pay attention to what Spider-Man would turn up for. Like Ms. Marvel, there were a lot of robberies, though mostly in bigger scales. There was the occasional pursenapper to be found hanging for the police, or other criminals, but that seemed a bit random. Where you were guaranteed to get him was bigger stuff. Bank robberies? New York’s black and red friend was there. Buildings on fire? People got lowered down in webs which stuck to their clothes for the rest of the day. Mall shootouts? Well, he hadn’t showed up yet, and Skye really hadn’t planned for this, but she might be able to shoot two birds with one stone.

They were two young men who held their rifles completely wrong, and Skye had heard the screaming start before she could do anything to stop it. Two people were dead when she reached them, after a dead sprint from the place she’d gone for lunch. There wasn’t anything she could do for them.

( _“You control the vibrations.”_ There were some pretty important vibrations missing from their chests.)

She could, however, stop the bullets from hurting anyone else. Coulson would probably appreciate that she didn’t go straight to knocking the murderers down. It would be easier to deal with the security-tapes that way.

There were sirens in the distance, and suddenly, something white engulfed both of the men’s rifles. The weapons were yanked away, and something, no, _someone_ , dropped down on one’s head, and punched the other one in the face. It was a beautiful thing to watch.

“I always try to think of something smart or funny to say here,” said the black figure to the knocked out guys, “But this really isn’t funny.” He shot a couple of webs at the guys, effectively trapping them to the floor, and started to swing out from the ceiling window he had obviously come in.

Skye cursed and quickly brought out her icer, taking aim. She shot. She hit target just as he was getting out the window. She heard a satisfying Thump! and ran for the exit. People didn’t seem to have noticed, since they were all also trying to get out. Luckily for her, they were too shocked to really get moving until a couple of seconds had passed, and she was out the door before that happened.

Getting up on the roof was trickier, but that was what back alley fire-escapes were for wasn’t it? And carrying the masked man down on the opposite side of where she could hear the sirens coming from was, well, not easy, but the best alternative she had. Also, Spider-Man was a lot shorter and lighter than she would have thought. And really, hotwiring the nearest parked car was not stealing if she planned to put it back later, and pay the owner for the trouble.

 

So a couple of hours later Spider-Man awoke in an empty warehouse. Sky hadn’t tied him down, or removed his mask, but she had searched his wrists and removed some small, very clever contraptions. Fitz would love to get his hands on them, but that would have to wait until there was a bit more trust.

“I need your help,” she said to the figure struggling to sit up. The words would hopefully work, if he was the kind of hero Skye thought he was.

“You couldn’t have asked?” Spider-Man asked, and held his hand to his head. His voice was very high, and broke at the end of the sentence. Shit.

“You don’t exactly have a public number I could call. And how old are you?”

“What? I don’t have to tell you anything! What do you need help for?” He had yet to try to actually run away. A good sign.

“Look. I’m an agent of SHIELD,” and there the hands went, trying to find something which wasn’t there. “Not HYDRA! I just want to ask you some questions, and if you don’t like it or don’t want to answer, I won’t bother you. Okay?” She tried to make her voice gentle, but it was difficult, because what the fuck? Did every teenager suddenly get superpowers? And it had to happen _after_ she had moved from New York?

It was hard to tell Spider-Man’s feelings, with the mask and all, but he nodded.

“So. Age?”

“Fourteen.” She raised her eyebrows at that young age, but he apparently interpreted it differently. “In eleven months.”

Thirteen. And he had just seen two innocent shoppers shot. She moved closer to him while trying to seem as unthreatening as possible. “What’s with the costume? It looks cool, but can’t be easy to see in, and there’s not a lot of room for pockets.”

He shrugged. “My friend made it. He’s pretty great. I feel better when I’m completely covered, so no one can see what I look like.”

Skye wanted to pull him into a hug. “Why are you doing this, kid?” she asked, voice soft.

He was silent for a long time. Then he pulled his mask off, and revealed a very young boy, black, with his eyes down. “The cops shot my mom,” he finally said. “She was a nurse, and she was just trying to help someone on the street, and they told her to put her hands up, but when she moved to do it, they shot her.” He looked up at Skye. There was fire there in his eyes, hurt and passion and _determination_. “That’s how it goes. The people who are supposed to protect you, shoot you, and people like my uncle, who brings dangerous spiders home, and pressures others to do his dirty work for him, they just sail to the top. Unless you stop them.” At this he closed his eyes. Was that a sniffle?

“Ah, kid,” Skye said, and wrapped her arms around him. He clung to her. He was so young, but he was also so old, and she hated it.

“It doesn’t matter what an organization says their supposed to do,” he whispered. “It’s the people that matter.” There was a short, choked laugh. “I don’t like Nazis.”

“Me neither,” Skye murmured back. “That’s what I’m trying to do something about. Get good people together to do good things. But you’re kind of young, aren’t you?” The kid pulled back, and she smiled the best she could at him, and pulled the web-devices and a card out of her pocket. This time she had come more prepared. “Call if you ever need help. If I’m not at the other end, tell them Skye gave you the number.”

The boy nodded and pulled on his mask again.

“Take care, Spider-Man,” she said, just as he swung away.

 

Miles Morales. He had basically given up his identity when he talked about how his mother died, Skye thought. She wouldn’t register it with SHIELD, though. That child had had enough trouble for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you don't know, Miles mother is Puerto Rican, not black, but it felt like unnecessary information for Miles to say. She doesn't die like that in the comics, but in the crossfire between the police and a spidey-related fight. Also, I'm not a black teenager living in the US, so I hope I got some points across in the right way, without being insensitive.
> 
> I find the idea of spidey-Miles without any spidey-Peter very interesting. A large part of Miles superhero-identity is about being enough, compared to Peter Parker, and measuring up. He would need to find his own way toward "with great power, comes great responsibility", and I think race would play a part in that. Becomign a superhero in the MCU isn't as obvious a choice as in the comics, though it's heading in that direction.
> 
> The Spider-Man costume is oddly enough, brilliantly neutral. No patriotic symbols, no distuinguishing features, except the spider, an indication of power, not side. Anyone can be under that mask, which is one of the reasons it works so well to put other heroes under it. In one of Miles first appereances he's a not very experienced thirteen year old, who takes off his mask in public. A bystander says "I told you Spider-Man was black," or something to that effect, and it's so telling about how this hero can be viewed by everyone who doesn't know his identity.
> 
> Also, this Miles probably doesn't always side with the police, which is probably part of the reason he's also viewed as a menace. And J. Jona Jameson is kind of a dick.
> 
> Long note, I know, but I thought a lot (too much?) about this.


	3. Haweye (not Hawkguy) and Miss America

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My knowledge about Kate Bishop is from Young Avengers and Hawkeye. My knowledge about Miss America is only from Young Avengers.
> 
> Some guys (and a gal) gets punched by America's fist of justice. Also, Skye gets possible concussion from mobsterguy.

_Okay_.

Skye had a gun trained at her, and three angry people who wanted answers. The blow to the head had rattled her, and she couldn’t focus her powers.

_This looks bad._

>>\------>

**Earlier**

“How’s the mission going?” No ‘hello’, no ‘how are you’. Phil really wanted this team.

“It’s going,” Skye paused, “well. It’s going well, sir. I’ve made contact with two potentials already. One said no, the other yes.”

“And?” He could tell she was hiding something, she just knew it.

“I’m assuming that you would want people who are old enough to drink, sir. And vote. And drive. And have sex.” Ms. Marvel might be able to drive, but she doubted it.

“That would be best, yes.”

“Then I don’t have any progress to report, at the moment.”

“I see.”

Skye tapped her keyboard and found what she was looking for. “I have another potential in mind who seems to be based in New York.”

“What kind of powers?”

“Uncanny accuracy with bow and arrow.”

There was a pause. “Skye, you know that the Avengers are based out of New York, right?”

“It’s not Hawkeye, sir.”

“Are you sure?”

“Unless he has taken up being a superhero on his spare time, in a completely unofficial capacity, in addition to working with the Avengers, I find that highly unlikely.” She got no reply. “Sir?”

“Agent Barton has a tendency to, let’s say, play the good Samaritan. What kind of crimes are we talking about?”

“Breaking up a high-end prostitution ring which catered to rich assholes with tastes that leaned young. Too young.” Phil made an affirmative noise. “Drug dealers that also targeted high-end, basically rich kids’ parties. And some low level thugs apparently trying to evict some people illegally from a building in Bed-Stuy. They were most likely employed by the guy involved in a major housing dispute, but no connection has been found by the police. In all cases, people were found, maimed by way of arrow, but nothing lethal or permanent.”

“When did this happen?”

Skye gave him the dates. She heard Phil sigh at the other end.

“I never thought I would have to deal with two people whose weapon of choice is basically sticks and strings.”

“Sir?”

“I don’t know about the last one, but the first two weren’t Barton. He wasn’t in the country at the time. Also, the second one is really not his style. This is someone who moves in high social circles enough to notice and care when someone does something illegal. Or completely morally bankrupt. Have you found any links between the cases besides the arrows?”

“I have, sir,” she said, and gave him a list of names. It had taken a bit more research, but there was overlap between the suspected customers of the first case, and the guest list at the parties in the second case. Several of the second were children, or younger relatives, of the first.

“Right. I think you’re going to need a nice dress, agent.”

“So do I, director.”

>>\------>

The party was boring. It was a charity where the proceeds were going to the homeless shelters of New York, and everyone who was anyone in the corporate world was there. Skye had gotten a ticket through an online contact who was owed a favor from the organizers, and had barely gotten enough time to shop for an appropriate outfit.

Now that she was in, she realized she knew absolutely no one there. She had memorized the suspects’ faces and names, but that didn’t help at all if she didn’t find a natural way to initiate contact. Besides, she wasn’t really here for them, but the mysterious archer, or any clue for how to find the person.

“Hey there, beautiful. You look a bit out of place.”

Skye realized she had been staring at her champagne for a while, and tensed at the words, but relaxed again when she saw the speaker.

A pale, dark-haired girl dressed in a purple gown stood with her arm slung over the shoulder a much bigger girl who was wearing a suit, and had her natural hair cascading down her shoulders in luscious curls. If Skye guessed right they were just the right age for those teenage parties.

She smiled shyly. “It’s my first time at one of these events. My husband was supposed to come with me, but he had to go away for business.”

“Oh, are you newly married?”

“Just this summer, actually.” Their interest seemed genuine, but Skye recognized a kind rescue when she saw one.

“Well that’s great! I’m Kate Bishop, my father is Derek Bishop, and this is America Chavez. She’s my girlfriend.”

Skye wondered if everyone introduced themselves in relation to someone else. What hell was her husband’s name supposed to be again? “Really?”

“Yes,” said Kate. “My Spanish-speaking, immigrant girlfriend.”

Skye wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to say. “Okay? Good for you?”

America snorted. “She’s been introducing me like that for the last half hour, just to be sure everyone will know by the time her father arrives.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“Oh no. It’s too much fun seeing people shift uncomfortably away from the two key demographic they consistently try to ruin everything for.”

They smiled at each other and Kate Leaned in to give her girlfriend a kiss.

“Katherine! I need to speak with you.” The man who had appeared behind them was enunciating his words very clearly, and it didn’t take genius to guess whose father he was.

“Sure dad! Have you met my girlfriend? She’s really eager to get to know you.”

Mr. Bishop frowned. “This is best if we do in private. I’m sure miss…” he paused.

“America,” America Chavez helpfully supplied.

“Miss… America, can entertain herself for a little while.”

The other Bishop shot him a nasty look, but followed him away. America leaned closer to Skye.

“How are you liking the party so far?”

“It’s fine,” Skye answered, careful about her words. “A bit much, but it’s all for a good cause.”

“Yeah.” There was a short laughter from the girl. “Good cause. A lot of people wouldn’t have to be homeless, if it weren’t for the fact that half of these people are sharks.”

“Really?”

“See that one over there?” She pointed toward the edge of the room, where floor met glass walls. A white-haired man Skye recognized stood there, obviously arguing with a woman. “Two weeks ago he hired the Russian mob to evict people from a building he wants to sell. Before that he raised rent with several hundred dollars.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

America shrugged. “Tenancy laws aren’t great in the first place, and he skirts the right side of legal enough not to be called out on it. He also claims the mob wasn’t his idea.”

“That’s terrible!” Skye said, but her focus had shifted. If all three cases were connected, then the archer was probably at this party. And she might get some clues if she got closer to that man.

A man who was leaving with the woman.

“Hey, I didn’t get your name,” America said, as Skye started to move away. She ignored the girl, hoping that the rudeness would stop her from following.

>>\------>

The couple went in the direction of the restrooms, but didn’t stop there. Rather, they weaved through hallways and down staircases, in an area that was so obviously supposed to be attended by staff. There were no glass walls, no fancy decoration, only functionality. It made it easier for Skye to hide as she followed them.

In the end they went into a room and closed the door behind them. She couldn’t follow them, but she could listen from the outside. Her powers weren’t perfect yet, but she had practiced enhancing sound. It was a good trick, great for spying, but it worked best if she had her ear to the solid surface of a wall. She stood quietly by the door, behind the hinges, so she would see when it opened.

“… you messed it all up!” The woman was shouting. Skye barely had to enhance the waves to hear.

“How was I to know what would happen? You say get them out, and that’s what I was trying to do!”

“Well now you’ve got witnesses in custody! I leave for a couple of weeks, and you manage to fuck up something so simple.”

“Look, Sasha is on his way, and I’m sure he’ll be reasonable. He’s the only one who knows it’s us, the people who got caught have nothing on us.”

There was a silence. Some footsteps. Skye listened hard, not wanting to miss anything which might help her understand what wasn’t being said.

“Okay. We can do damage control, we’ve done it before.” There was a motion. Was the man nodding?

“Make sure everyone keeps their mouths shut,” he said.

“Right.”

The woman said something more, but Skye didn’t hear it. She was yanked away from the wall by a big fist, and before she could gather herself enough to use her powers, she was hit in the head. Hard.

>>\------>

**Now**

_Okay. This looks bad._

If only she could _focus_.  There was no double eye-sight, and she wasn’t feeling the need to vomit, but there was almost certainly a concussion, and she didn’t dare release her powers, for fear of tearing the building from its foundation.

“Who do you work for?”

Okay. That’s what the cover is for. She hitched her breath. “I’m a stay at home wife. Why are you doing this?” Tears. Tears were good. Also, not very hard to produce at the moment.

“You were listening in,” said the large man. He had an accent she was finding hard to place with the pounding in her head. “Bro, that’s not very nice. You tell us what you doing, and I don’t hit you again.”

She burst into tears, and did her best to be as incoherent as possible. “Please, I didn’t mean to! It’s my first time to one of these things, I wish my husband was here, I won’t say anything, I didn’t hear anything, please, I swear, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me…”

“Let. Her. Go.” A strong voice cut through the high squeaks Skye was making. All three turned, and Skye managed to rock her chair enough that it fell over, so she was completely out of the way when an arrow knocked the gun away from the big man’s, presumably Sasha’s, grip. What followed next could accurately be described as ‘pin the bad guys pants/skirts to the floor, using arrows’.

Kate Bishop stood in the doorway.

America Chavez did not. She was striding forward, delivering three swift punches to the head which would have made May proud. The guys fell to the floor, and both girls moved forward to Skye.

“Are you alright?” Bishop asked, as the other girl was untying her.

Skye drew a shaky breath, and not all of it was fake. “Yeah.” She looked up at Bishop. Kate. She had another arrow knocked and ready to draw, her stance wide. Skye could see something under the hemline of her hitched up dress, and really? A quiver attached to her leg? “So, what? Are you some kind of lady Hawkeye?” Okay, maybe the concussion was a bit more serious than she thought.

America snorted. “I suggested Hawkette once. She did not take it well.”

“I couldn’t just be Hawkeye? I bet I could beat the other one if I got the chance.”

“Pretty sure you’re both on the same side,” Skye said. “Hopefully, at least. Right Bishop?”

The two girls studied her as she got to her feet. “You seem awfully calm about this,” America said.

“Well it’s not the worst situation I’ve been in. It doesn’t even reach the top ten for the last year.” She stumbled up and reached into a pocket under her skirt for a card. The idiots hadn’t even frisked her. “I’m an agent of SHIELD, the good part not the bad.” The last part had become a reflex by now.

“What’s a SHIELD agent investigating housing disputes for?” The archer asked suspiciously. She still hadn’t removed the arrow from her bow.

“I’m not, I’m actually on a recruit run. For you specifically Ms. Bishop, since you are apparently the mysterious archer. Though I see that there’s more talent here than excellent aim,” she said, and nodded at the other girl.

America smiled. “I’m good at punching stuff.”

“That you are.”

Kate Bishop considered the card. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Skye smiled at them, and finally got to really do her recruitment pitch.

>>\------>

In the end, they didn’t say yes. They didn’t give a conclusive no, though, and that would hopefully be enough to eventually reel them in. Both had gotten a card, but Skye was pretty sure that if one said yes, both would come. And really, SHIELD could always use some fists of justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, America counts as an immigrant, right? Growing up in an alternate dimension is even more alien than Superman.
> 
> I don't think Kate or America will show up in season 3, though I would be happy to be proved wrong. But with their age, the possibility is there, so I kept it open.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Semester started, life happened.

Skye didn’t really have any plans left for New York. She left the party with a vague idea to just get back to her hotel room and give Coulson a call.  There were rumors that other supers were showing up elsewhere, and she might have to head to the west coast next.

For now, though, she just needed to get to a bed and rest. The thing about this kind of operation was that she needed to be mobile, but had to have a base. And SHIELD wasn’t exactly flush with resources at the moment, which meant cheap hotel rooms only. In Manhatten. In the summer.

Public transport got her to the nearest vicinity, but there were several blocks of walking before she would be back, and Hell’s kitchen wasn’t the best streets to wander in the middle of the night. That was probably the reason she didn’t feel surprised when, after turning to onto an empty street and walking for a bit, she heard a click of the safety on a gun.

“Give me all your stuff, or I’ll shoot you!”

Well. It was very succinct. No room for misunderstanding. Skye liked to think, after living in an orphanage, foster homes, out of her van, and eventually on a plane with people who could kill you with their pinky,

(or kidnap you, get this weird imprint on you, try to convince you they _loved_ you, couldn’t you just see…)

that she had gotten a pretty tough skin, and wouldn’t feel threatened by an everyday robbery.

Except she was. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, her head was woozy (Seriously, _was_ she concussed? Sleeping as soon as she got back might not be the best idea.), she was really insecure about her powers at the moment, and her dress was torn. She was _tired_. Maybe this didn’t need to develop into a confrontation?

“Look, I don’t want any trouble, I just have some cash on me, nothing more, and you can have that.” She turned around slowly. Big guy, covered in a hoodie, the darkness making it really hard to see any distinguishing features. He didn’t hold his gun like a trained agent would, but he obviously had experience with it. He nodded to the alley that was a couple of feet in the direction she had been going.

Okay. This wasn’t going to be resolved peacefully. On the plus side, when they got into the alley he made her go up against the wall, and moved in to take stuff from her. This made for better hand to hand, since she wasn’t trusting her powers at the moment. But before she could do anything she heard a _thump_ behind her. She swiveled around just as the gun went off.

A dark silhouette she recognized from newspaper pictures was holding her would-be robber down on the ground.

“I told you,” the shadow said with a menacing growl. “One more chance, but if you start up again, and you are not as far away as you can be by the time the light hits the docks, I am going to give you a small home visit. You will not like that.”

The other guy was begging, _pleading_ , and Daredevil, it could be no one else, let him up. The robber stumbled and ran out of the alley. The horned hero turned to look at Skye, then cocked his head. “You’re not from around here.” It was a statement, not a question.

“What, is that a crack about my eyes? I partly grew up in Saint Agnes, I’d say that makes me practically a native.” Why did she say that? Why was she volunteering information she ad all but scrubbed away from her identity? But the gay paused.

“Mary Sue?” It was disbelieving, and she could hear that he hadn’t meant to say it.

Wait. _Wat a minute_. She looked more closely at his costumes hole for eyes.

“ _Matty?_ ”

Skye had a good memory. She hadn’t been that many years at St. Agnes, so the only people who would recognize her were either the nuns (doubtful with the whole, you know, _devil_ thing), or the children she’d been with. And Skye had never been good with connecting with anyone who weren’t outsiders, so of course the easiest way was to sit next to the blind kid who never really spoke and was several years older than her, but who also never bothered her.

“I, uh…” He looked ready to bolt, and Skye really didn’t want that.

“Is that a gunshot wound?” she asked, pointing at his leg. “You need to sit down.”

“He didn’t hit anything important,” he said quickly. There was no growl in his voice now.

“Your leg is important for walking. Sit down so I can get some pressure on it, and you can get to wherever without bleeding to death. This dress is useless anyway.”

He hesitated, but sat down. She kneeled beside him and started ripping her skirt into strips.

“So, um, you’re Daredevil now, huh?”

“I would appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone.”

“No kidding. I won’t, but I should probably tell you that I’m not Mary Sue anymore. In fact, you can just forget that name , like it never existed.”

There was an awkward pause as she worked.

“So… What do you do now?”

“I’m, actually, I’m a SHIELD agent. The not Nazis part. Which is secret. So, you don’t tell, I don’t tell.”

He tensed for a moment, but Skye had him in a pretty compromised position, and he didn’t move.

“Soo, can I ask how all this,” she gestured at the costume “happened?” A thought struck her. “Pkease don’t tell me you volunteered for some shady blind-curing science project.” The Centipede thing and Mike would not be forgotten first thing.

“No,” he said slowly. “All ‘this’ kind of came at the same time I became blind.”

Skye processed that for a couple of seconds. Matt hadn’t been the most interesting person around when she grew up, but she had looked him up. She knew his story. Or apparently not.

“Are you telling me,” she tried not to raise her voice, “that you got superpowers when you were _nine_?”

“Um…”

“Are you _kidding_ me?”

He started to get up. She had finished his bandage, so there wasn’t much stopping him. “I… I need to go.”

Skye had just enough good sense to pull herself together, and reach up her skirt. “Wait! Card. Here. In case you need to contact us, me, anyone, because, I don’t know. Ask for Skye.”

Yes Skye. Much coherent. Very amaze. At least he took the card before parkouring off into the night.

 

“Yes?”

“Do everyone get their powers when their kids now? Is that going to be a thing?”

“…Skye?”

“I know you want me to lead a team, but if this is going to keep up, I’ll end up as a babysitter, not a team leader.”

“…”

“What?”

“You’re learning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I rushed this a bit to get it out just before the new season. Might go back to edit later.  
> I'm at mstreason.tumblr.com where I do very little, but feel free to check it out, and leave me a message if you want :)


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